The Joke
by d0ddi0slave
Summary: K-Kwik is struck the wrong way by a joke, and decides to take drastic measures.


Disclaimer: Most anything written here is the original works of Adam Dodd, ©(not really) 2001

**Disclaimer: **Most anything written here is the original works of Adam Dodd, ©(not really) 2001. The characters in this story are all property of the WWFE group, and the people who portray them. Any events in this story are works of fiction and aren't to be interpreted as based on a genuine, real event. Because you know those news reporters can get quite feisty at times. J Anyway, on with the show!

The Joke 

** **

It wasn't really fair, or was it? That was the question that burned in his mind, but he knew, before he even asked it to himself that it was a question that would matter little in his business. Ron Killings, known better to the media and the world as 'K-Kwik', sat in his small dressing room, his legs stretched out over a chair, and a black Compaq laptop on his lap, quietly surfing the Internet. Ron wasn't scheduled for a match on RAW is WAR, which would take place in a matter of hours, and so he felt that he could, like he had been doing quite a bit as of late, relax. 

Now, for wrestlers, getting a bit of relaxation time is all right. However, attending tapings and not doing anything week after week gets dull, boring, and makes them feel as if they're not wanted. This can lead to a number of things, including various side effects, thanks mostly in part to the tough traveling schedule. 

However, as Ron sat in his small, white dressing room, cruising the Internet by way of a fairly fast 56k modem, he was feeling a little anxious. It had been quite a while since he had been doing anything other than running in as part of the WWF strike force, which would run out to combat the WCW whenever they interfered en masse, and what he wasn't telling anyone was that it was slowly beginning to make him uncertain of himself. It had been going on quietly, and before he ever got half the mind to do anything about it, it was far too late. 

An unfortunate side effect from the intense, almost hellish traveling schedule, is that your sleeping patterns will be completely messed up. As well as your eating patterns. The one thing that you had to keep constant was your workout schedule, but that was even hard to maintain. All of those reasons and even more contributed to Ron's mood, and he had to ask himself again was 'why is wrestling not fair?'

Why was life not fair? How come Ron was unable to break into the business and be in a scenario like Bill Goldberg had been, to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, or perhaps like Kurt Angle, showing incredible determination and effort, and after a year, winning every single major singles title that you could win? The simple answer to that question was the one motto that's probably repeated about the world every single day, in every single country. Some people live by it, others don't, but it is a constant. 

"Life's not fair". 

As it's quite evident, Ron was not in a very stable state of mind.

This would prove to be the main problem as he surfed onto WWF.com, the World Wrestling Federation's website, the main place for news and information about the WWF. The splash page today showed Kurt Angle clutching the WCW title to his chest, with an ecstatic look on his face. Ron had been happy for Kurt, because Kurt was a fairly good friend of his, and was a genuine nice guy. Clicking on the 'Superstars' portion of the website, Ron cruised into his own section of the site, and noticed that it hadn't been updated in awhile. Why would it be? He was essentially cursed, having teamed with the Road Dogg, also known as Brian Armstrong, who was smoking crack day in and day out without anyone really noticing it until a few months ago, when he showed up to work stoned out of his mind. He said goodbye to the WWF. When Ron had been given another slight team to work with in 'Scotty 2 Hotty' Scott Taylor and 'Grand Master Sexay' Brain Christopher, as well as their occasional partner Rikishi Phatu, and Sexay's partner when Scotty was down with a leg injury, 'The Lethal Weapon' Steve Blackman. This was the group he mainly hung around with backstage, and that was at a point in his short career that he was enjoying profusely. The problem happened when Blackman and Sexay were crossing the Canadian border and Sexay was caught with marijuana, causing his quick dismissal from the company, following his father, Jerry Lawler, and his mother-in-law, Stacy Carter. Blackman was embarrassed and disgraced by the incident, and stopped being social. Rikishi went on the shelf for an injury, and Scott and Ron had been relegated to the 'run-in' team. It was, in his own opinion, a fucking disgrace. 

Why, he would contemplate, are two perfectly good superstars, hell, more than two, look at Bull Buchanan and D'Lo Brown, why are they being held down and made the run-in buddies? The WWF can hire cheap security for that. Why employ them to fairly nice contracts, and then not utilize their talents? It was bullshit, in his opinion. 

As he scrolled onto the headlines page, something new caught his eye – a new poll. Ron always liked the polls, because they could come off rather strangely. An example would be the 'Superstar Survivor' polls, in which Steve Blackman was the ultimate survivor. As he scrolled down, he read the question out loud: "Who should be the person to lead Team WWF?" He chuckled, and read the list of names. Obvious choices were Angle, the Rock, Chris Jericho, Kane, and Bradshaw. He frowned as he saw the other few: Essa Rios, Bull Buchanan, and his own wrestling persona; K-Kwik. 

He shook his head as he clicked the circle beside the name of Kurt Angle. Obviously, the poll would reveal that Rock should lead Team WWF, with Angle, Jericho, Bradshaw, Kane, and maybe Bull Buchanan next. What he saw when the next box popped up shocked him.

Leading the way, with 29% of the vote, was K-Kwik, and the Rock was next, with 25%. Ron was shocked. Completely, utterly shocked. He had been thrown in as a fucking joke and the fans either had a big sense of humor or they wanted HIM to be the leader. The answer to him was obvious. He hadn't been on TV much, and he never had a cult following, like Kane or the Acolytes. So therefore, he was the practical joke. 

Ron shook his head. Inside, the rage, and all of the things that had angered him about his WWF situation were beginning to boil over. He couldn't believe it. The guys in the locker room were probably looking at the same thing and laughing their heads off. His fists clenched. Everything was starting to fall apart. Suddenly, the Rock's loud music blasted through the arena as a music test. That didn't help matters much. 

The straw that eventually broke the camel's back, however, was not some event that happened that seemed to make fun of him. In fact, it was something completely non-related to him. 

In the hallway outside his room, Adam Copeland and Jay Reso walked by, reading a 'Mad' magazine, laughing like a pair of fools. 

Inside the dressing room, Ron Killings heard laughter, hysterical, hyena-like laughter.

Outside the dressing room, Adam and Jay flipped the page and continued along the corridor.

Inside, Ron had stood up, placing the laptop on a table. He had lost complete control, and the look in his eyes showed that. Ron stepped across the room to his bag, and rummaged around for something. He looked, and eventually his eyes fell on the object in question. He removed it, and checked it. Tears ran down his face, as he stepped into the washroom, closing the door behind him.

An unfortunate consequence would also take place to the poor soul that would take that moment to wander down the hall next, and that man happened to be the seven footer, Paul Wight. He would find something he was definitely not looking for.

Now, Paul had his own problems at the moment, and was somewhat wrapped up in a few notes. The story here was that he was to team with Billy Gunn, and he was to actually come up with a team name for the two. So Show was just strolling around the building, looking for ideas. 

At the exact moment that Paul would walk past the dressing room doorway, a loud 'BANG' was heard, and not the Dallas Page type of Bang, either. A loud thud was heard, as well as a clattering noise. 

Paul snapped out of his trance and looked up, just as Shane McMahon rounded the corner. Shane had a concerned look on his face, as he had obviously heard the noise as well.

"Paul, you hear that?"

  
"Yeah, I did…what was it?"

Shane sniffed the air, and frowned even deeper. "I think…I think that smells like a gunshot!"

Paul blinked. "What exactly does a gunshot _smell _like?"

Shane ignored the question, and tried to open the door. He failed, as it was locked. Paul simply kicked it in, and the two entered the room. The first thing they saw was the laptop, and the second was a discarded Desert Eagle .50, an illegal firearm, lying on the ground. Shane went and examined the closet, but when Paul opened the door, he made a gruesome discovery, and a pool of thick red liquid pooled around his boots as he, and then Shane looked down at Paul's horrific discovery. 

You can only guess what it was.

_This is my first piece of Fan Fiction for this site, (in fact, ever), and it's not exactly what I wanted to do with this story (I've got a few planned out roughly) but I think it works. My style of writing differs, and the kind that I used for this story was somewhat difficult to understand…I realize that and I'm sorry. (I haven't written for awhile, anyway, so I'm getting' back into the throw of things. My other fanfics should be more uplifting, too. *grin*) Anyway, R/R, please, I wanna know what you all think! =) _

_– Adam Dodd_


End file.
